Pieces of Paisley (17 page)

Tonight is especially tense. Rick has been laying into Kara all evening, and I am about to lose my cool. He can be a dick, but I usually try to stay out of it. Paisley is getting more irritated sitting here listening to him berate Kara, from her clothes, to her hair, to her cooking abilities, and every subject in between. When she reaches her breaking point, she gets up and grabs her cigarettes to walk outside, so I follow her.

“You really need to lay off the cigarettes, Pais.”

“Not this argument again, Jake. I get your view on it, believe me, I hear it enough.”

“What is your problem?” She just glares at me which sets me off. “Go ahead, Pais, I can take it.” I know I am goading her right now, and in the back of my mind I want her to call me out on my shit. I want a reason to tell her, I want her to be a bitch so I can blame her for what is happening.

“Let me count the issues here. 1. Since you came home, if we aren’t having sex, we are on eggshells around each other. I ask you what is wrong and you blow it off, change the subject, or take my head off. My head is conjuring up all sorts of images, and none of them pleasant. 2. Kara, who is slowly working her way into my heart and life, allows that douchebag to treat her like shit, and I can’t stand him and the feeling is mutual. 3. You leave in less than two months and I have no idea what is going to happen to us because YOU WON’T TALK TO ME!”

She shouts the last part at me, and I am sure the upstairs neighbors heard her.

“Is that it? Is that all you have for me? Princess doesn’t feel like she is center of attention so she is going to pitch a fit and draw attention to it? Grow up, Paisley, life isn’t always about you. I have so much shit in my head right now, and sorry if you don’t feel like you are sitting on the pedestal I usually put you on. Should I start asking you every day what I can do to make you happy?” I have completely lost my mind and the ability to form a sentence without slicing her open. Her tears streaming down her face make me feel about two inches tall, but I won’t take them back. I need her to be mad at me, I need her to distance herself, but at the same time I want to put her in a bubble that is unbreakable. I go from one extreme to the other with her, no wonder she has whiplash. I am either arguing with her, fucking her, or ignoring her.

She puts her cigarette out and turns to go in the apartment without a word. A few seconds pass by, and I am trying to control my breathing and figure out what the hell I am going to say to her to make her forgive me, then I need to figure out what the fuck to do so this doesn’t keep happening. The one thing I want to love, protect, and cherish is the one thing slipping away from me . . . Paisley. Before I make that decision, the door opens and Paisley walks past me with her purse and backpack. She has her keys out and is heading toward her Jeep. On instinct I reach out and grab her arm, halting her midstride.

“Let go of me,” she tells me. Her voice is weak and trembling, and I want to pull her to me and comfort her, but I am the one who caused this ache. Every promise I ever made to her is being broken one by one the past months, and I don’t know how to stop it. I just know I can’t lose her.

“Don’t leave,” I beg her. If she stays I promise myself no more of this. I will find a way to deal where she isn’t affected. God, if she walks away, I don’t know what I will do.

“You have made it clear, not just tonight but time after time, that you don’t want me. You may want pieces of me, but when something doesn’t sit right with you or I am not obeying you, this is what happens. Well I am tired of being your punching bag, taking the brunt of your bad moods. You promised me Jake, you promised me you loved me, well love should never make me feel like this. I don’t want your brand of love, and if this is really what love is, I don’t want it at all. What you just said to me, that was it, the final straw for me. I am not going to stand here while you spew your bullshit at me and then expect me to take it and act like nothing is wrong. Let me tell you something . . . I have never asked you to put me on a pedestal. I have never asked anything of you except your love, respect, and commitment to me. The same things you demanded of me. I am dealing with as much as you; I am seventeen years old, living like I am an adult. I gave up my high school life, and that is on me, I don’t blame you at all. But I did all the changing in this relationship, without hesitation because it was going to benefit us, make it easier for us to survive. For every step I made in building this path together, you continuously move the steps and create obstacles for us to climb over, and it shouldn’t be this hard. It shouldn’t hurt this bad. You are leaving in less than two months and since you came home, it seems like I am nothing more than an afterthought, when you are my only thought.” She pauses, and I see her chest heaving, about half way through her speech, she started sobbing. Every word she said to me is lodging in my skin, piercing the flesh and making me feel every cut and barb. I did this, I have to fix it.

“I can’t let you go, I love you, Paisley. I am sorry, I will do whatever I have to.”

“That’s just it, Jake. I don’t want to be wanted like this, a toy you take out and play with when you want something, but discard as soon as the moment is over. I shouldn’t have to tell you what to do; you should have been doing it all along. I love you, too, but I love myself, more.” She rips her arm out of my grasp and flees across the parking lot to her Jeep. I stand there, not moving a muscle to stop her, not even caring that she is in pain, because all I can focus on is the pain in my chest and head. I have just ruined the only thing that matters, all over a cheating, lying bitch one thousand miles away.

I punch the stucco on the outside wall of the apartment over and over, wanting to feel something other than the pain I have inflicted on myself. I watch as the blood trickles down from my knuckles. I keep hitting, now mixing in my tears and yells until I collapse on the patio and remind myself what a piece of shit I am. Her face, crumbling with pain, and tears streaming down are all I can see. I don’t know how to fix this. My need to protect her has now destroyed her.

Chapter 15

Paisley

You are never given a wish without also being given the power to make it come true. You may have to work for it, however.

Richard Bach

Did I just break up with him? I walked away, told him I was done, and in the moment I meant it, but now that I am at home, in my bed alone, I have no idea why I said that. I am not done. I love him. I do love him, but I can’t continue to tear myself up like this, and for what? It is obvious what he wants, and I can’t stop the inevitable. My mom opens my door, and before she can say a word, I turn over facing my wall with my back to her and praying she gets the point. I don’t want to talk to her. She won’t get it, and I don’t have the energy to explain it. Luckily, she gets the hint and leaves my room. My phone is going off in my purse, and I don’t bother with it. I don’t want to talk to anyone . . . especially him right now. I fell asleep to my tears and Cassadee Pope singing ‘I Wish I Could Break Your Heart’ and the rest of her kick ass, girl power lyrics.

It’s Saturday and I need to get out of the house, forget that I was going to be with him all weekend. I splash some cold water on my face, brush my teeth, put on my bathing suit, and leave the house. I don’t speak to anyone, but my mom sees me and knows where I am heading. I decided not to go to the beach, our beach, that will be too obvious and I need solitude. I drive to Huguenot Park and that is also a mistake. I have a perfect view of Mayport Naval Base and the aircraft carrier that will carry him away from me in a short while. Although, it won’t carry him away from me, because I already lost him. I don’t know when or where, but I just know he isn’t mine anymore. I am going back and forth from being extremely pissed off at him to just plain devastated. He promised me he would always catch me, but he pushed me away. He swore he loved me, and my happiness and our relationship would always be a priority, and I believed him. This is why I don’t do this shit; I don’t like being weak or vulnerable because that is when people can hurt you. I lived with the motto, ‘don’t let them get close enough to hurt you,’ and he annihilated that and my heart in the process.

I stay on my spot of the beach until the sunset is going down. My phone has been on silent, and I decided to check it. A ton of calls and texts from Kara. One from my mom telling me she won’t be home tonight, and my brother in law and sister inviting me to dinner. My mom probably told them what a mess I was and they are taking pity on me. Nothing from him . . . that speaks volumes to me, and I don’t know how much clearer he can get. His words begging me last night were a lie, just like his love for me. I head home blaring ‘Learn My Lesson’ by Daughtry and vowing to not give him the satisfaction of another tear of mine. I am done with Jake Parker Grant and all the misery he brings. My new slogan is ‘I got 99 problems and Jake isn’t one.’

The joke is on me. My non-existent problem is sitting on my front porch holding a few dozen roses and looking like shit. Fuck him; he isn’t going to make me feel bad for him. I take a deep breath, steel my resolve, grab my stuff, and head towards the door. I was planning to walk right past him, not even a look thrown his way, but when he calls my name, “Paisley,” and I can feel the pain vibrating in that word, I forget my plan and look at him. I am almost brought to my knees when I witness the despair in his eyes. He drops his chin down, and I see the watery look in his eyes. His hands are a mess and I know he went on a rampage sometime after I left, but the thing that gets me the most is that he won’t meet my eyes. He has always held me captive with his eyes, but now he won’t meet my gaze.

“Jake, look at me,” I tell him.

When he meets my gaze there is nothing but shame radiating from him. I don’t want to care, I don’t want to cave, but I feel my resolve floating away, leaving me bare to him. The tear that falls from his eye is my undoing. I take a step towards him, and he drops every flower he is holding and lunges for me. Burying his face in my neck, mumbling over and over how sorry he is, I want to forgive him. I have to know the cause of this first. “We have to talk,” I whisper to him and my hands found their way to his head and I am cradling him to me.

“In a minute, right now I need to hold you, feel you in my arms. God, I am so sorry, beautiful. Please, don’t leave me. I can’t survive without you.” That is almost my undoing, but I don’t respond. I have to know what is going on in his head, and I fear the worst, so I won’t make promises I can’t keep. I hate when it is done to me so I won’t do that to him. Minutes pass by, and when he isn’t releasing me, I pull away. I quiet his protest with a quick peck and unlock the door and hold it open for him to follow me in.

“Let me jump in the shower, and then we talk.” I mean it. I need answers. He nods his head and goes into the living room to sit down. He looks broken down, weary, and that isn’t my Jake. My confident, cocky, control freak man is hurting, and I will reach him. He has to tell me what is so bad that he is willing to end us. I rush through my shower, eager to be near him again, but at the same time dreading what this could mean. My typical thought is ‘he cheated on me’ but that isn’t in his nature. He showed me every step of the way in our relationship what kind of man he was, and proved he is loyal, caring, selfless . . . then he went home and came back a changed man. Whatever is wrong, it has rocked him to his core, and I hope I will be enough to fix it.

Quickly putting on shorts and a tank top I don’t even bother brushing my hair, as I make my way into the living room I nearly turn around. The sight in front of me is beautiful, but heartbreaking. My man is staring off at the wall, not focusing on anything, and he looks so alone, so broken. He is praying, and it stops be dead in my tracks. I want to be his absolution, chase away what is haunting him and that gives me the strength to walk in the room and call out to him. His head bends down slightly; I don’t know if he is finishing up his prayer or ashamed for getting caught. “Jake, talk to me. What is going on?”

He straightens, meets my gaze and doesn’t say anything for a few minutes. He opens his mouth several times to start, but no words are coming out, and that scares me. Whatever it is he is afraid to tell me, and my anxiety is in overdrive. Finally, “I’m scared.” Those two words remind me he is human.

“We all get scared sometimes. What are you scared of, babe?” I hope my term of endearment will relax him. Let him open up and then we can fix this together.

“Of losing you.” Why does he think the way he was acting was the way to keep me? At every turn he was punishing me, pushing me away for a crime I had yet to commit.

“I don’t understand. You have done nothing but create this break in us since you got back. What happened at home?” I need him to be honest. I need him to want to fix this.

His silence is grating on my nerves. “Nothing, Pais. I thought about a lot of things when I was home, and the foremost thought was you. Our future, and what it would look like. I had just gotten back from three weeks without you, and it made me wonder what the hell six months was going to be like. I freaked a bit. I have never felt like this, and I know I never will again. No matter what, you are it for me. I know I have been handling it the wrong way, but I didn’t want you to doubt us. If I was having fears and doubts about being away from you, how did I expect you to react? I am the one who is supposed to hold us together, be the strong one. I failed you, and I failed us. For that I am sorry. It’s stupid, but I see and hear so much about wives, fiancés and girlfriends cheating while we are away on deployment, and that fucked with my head. I don’t doubt you and your commitment, but I am afraid of the temptation you will endure while I am gone. I won’t be here to hug you when you need it, you won’t be falling asleep in my arms and when your sadness and fears overtake you, and I won’t be there to chase those away. What happens if you miss them so badly, you fall for someone who is here, not overseas?”